


Crash-landed

by larvae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Consensual Sex, Edging, Grandtrickster, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Stimulation, Rimming, Teasing, Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, frostmaster, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larvae/pseuds/larvae
Summary: But she's a modern loverIt's an exploration, she's made of outer spaceAnd her lips are like the galaxy's edgeAnd her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into placeLoki belly up in Grandmaster's tacky gold sheets.Inspired by https://cuppyren.tumblr.com/post/168880475125/





	Crash-landed

**Author's Note:**

> Filthy/Gorgeous by Scissor Sisters / Clever_Girl_DrIanMalcom.mp3 3,000 Word Amateur Porn SFX Mash Up

Loki Laufeyson, prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, rightful king of Jötunheimr, recently made former acting All-Father of the Realm Eternal, found himself face down, ass up in an unfamiliar set of sheets.

The material pressed against his face was cool, of an unfathomable thread count of some priceless skein, woven painstakingly together by delicate fingered creatures for which the Æsir had no name. It gleamed a tacky, visually overwhelming gold and seemed to flow through his fingers like steam when he clutched at it, which he was doing somewhat desperately.

It had all gone a bit pear shaped on Midgard, much more quickly than he’d come to expect in that oft-troubled realm. The Bifrost being compromised was hardly a surprise. Skurge was opportunistically disloyal and eager to prostrate himself before authority. Sticking him in front of an enormously important On/Off switch had been less risky than leaving him in charge of anything else in the house of cards that had been Loki’s cushiest gig to date. The preoccupied king regent could hardly think what shape things had turned to in Asgard at this point in his sister’s arrival, but it was sure to be unpleasant.

It hardly seemed like his problem when weighed against more immediate concerns.

The yawning void of space that Loki had expected to greet him on the other side of that screaming beam of light had failed to materialize. He had instead been introduced rather bodily to the surface of a far flung garbage planet, the godking supreme overlord of which had his face buried in his ass.

Upon his unceremonious arrival in Sakaar he’d set out with a shrewdly calculated set of steps set to place him into this exact bed in one or another similar position. His plan had been meticulously well constructed. It had involved seiðr and cunning and regicide. It had threatened to put his stint as All Father to shame. It had been outlined on the back of an unfolded cocktail napkin and never implemented. This had all happened a bit more quickly than he could ever have anticipated, and he’d found himself considerably more enthusiastic at the idea than he’d expected. 

Loki pushed his face into the glittering sheets to stifle a moan drawn out from him by the heat of the Grandmaster’s tongue pressing a long, leisurely path from his balls up past his asshole. He had his weight braced on his right hand with a steady grip on Loki’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart and pushing forward to exaggerate the curve in his back. It put a pleasant ache into Loki’s shoulders as they pressed flat against the mattress. He felt the muscles in his chest stretch, his body pliant under the Grandmaster’s affections. The pressure made him spread his knees further apart, his hips sinking lower as they did so. The Grandmaster’s tongue followed him down, its tip tracing a swirl around his asshole. He let out a shuddering gasp at the teasing sensation, bucking his hips into the mattress and pulling his hands towards his face, still gripping fistfuls of sheets.

Behind him, he heard a good natured chuckle, “You, uh… still doin’ alright there, Loki?” the Grandmaster chided. He slid his palm up and down the outside of Loki’s thigh, moving it over his hip and up the curve of his back. There was an unconscionable strength in that slim fingered, aged hand. It rested at Loki’s waist gently but possessively, fingertips pushed into his flushed skin with great tenderness, exuding a force profoundly disproportionate to its owner’s lithe frame.

Loki pushed himself up onto his elbows and turned to look back over his shoulder, his ragged breath cutting through his smile. The Grandmaster had straightened up, sitting back on his haunches with one hand resting on his thigh and the other keeping Loki pinned beneath him. He’d managed to shed his blue tunic but had kept his floor length robe which splayed open across his bare chest and blended in with his gaudy bedding. Though his bright blue lipstick had smeared across his mouth and chin, his face remained placidly composed. His broad features carried their usual somewhat vacant but jovial expression, ready to arrange themselves into pleasant surprise at whatever happened next. His eyes held a gleaming, endless depth that echoed the impossible strength of his well manicured hands. Holding his gaze, Loki felt a certain _l’appel du vide_ bloom in his chest, stronger than any morbid curiosity or flights of fancy at climbing the Sakaaran social ladder. There was something delicious and tantalizing about being at the center of his attention, like licking a razor blade.

“Exceptional,” Loki replied,.

“Ah, well, I would, uh… certainly hope so, if you’re looking at me like that,” The Grandmaster mused, and traced a path across Loki’s back down to his left side, wrapping his fingers gently over the curve of his hip and coaxing him onto his back. Loki flipped agreeably, spreading his legs to fit the Grandmaster between his thighs and arching his back against the bed. He looked up through half lidded eyes, parting his lips and placing the tip of his tongue thoughtfully between his teeth. He brought his arms up above his head and crossed his wrists to lace his pinky fingers together demurely. Supine and expectant, peering up through dark lashes, he was the very portrait of a coquette, as if his licentious expression hadn’t been ground into the mattress moments before.

It hadn’t taken much wordsmithing to catch the Grandmaster’s attention. In fact, Loki had found himself quieter during his first day on Sakaar than he’d found himself in aeons. He had instead played the part of an enraptured and patient listener. It had been a simple matter of reaching across his enthusiastic new tour guide to grab a glass off a serving girl’s tray, of letting him rest a hand on his hip as he gestured across the sprawling view of the city beneath them, or leaning in towards his face because it was crowded in the penthouse suite and he hadn’t _quite_ caught that, sorry. As Loki looked up at him now, the Grandmaster appeared just as taken with him. His eyes darted from his mouth to his neck to the rapid rise and fall of his chest, drinking in the alien novelty of his newly crash-landed paramore.

So the God of Lies stayed silent, pretty, and coy, batting his eyelashes as the Grandmaster reached into the pocket of his robe to pull out a fanciful glass vial. He tipped its contents over the fingers of his left hand, letting the oil pool in his gently cupped palm and rubbing it over his fingers. Loki worried his bottom lip between his teeth expectantly, noting with a thrill the wrapt attention the Grandmaster payed to his mouth as he did so. He reached forward — keeping his eyes trained on the bridge of his bedfellow’s nose to appear properly attentive but non-threatening — and loosened the tie of his slacks, slipping his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down over his hips.

The Grandmaster tossed the emptied vial over his shoulder and Loki heard it shatter somewhere in the distance, farther than it reasonably could have traveled with such a graceless flick of his wrist. He leaned over him, bracing his right hand against Loki’s shoulder to press him flat against the bed and slipping his left hand down between them. As he pressed his mouth against Loki’s, he pushed his index finger inside of him.

Loki let out a sharp breath and reached up to run his hands through the Grandmaster’s short silver hair, running his fingers up and down the nape of his neck and over the shell of his ear. His skin was flushed and warm and had an odd edge to it that made him think of a stone left in the sun. Everything about the Grandmaster seemed to have an odd edge to it, like an unspoken rule or an unfathomable depth. Each new pang of worry felt like a needle grazing his skin. 

After his first few undulations, Loki nipped at his bottom lip encouragingly, noted that the lipstick which came away on his tooth tasted like ash, and hooked his ankles together behind him, drawing their bodies closer together. The Grandmaster slipped his middle finger into his ass and when Loki moaned low in his throat he felt his cock jump eagerly against the inside of his thigh. So he moaned again, letting his mouth drop open and tilting his chin towards his chest, furrowing his brows for good measure. When the Grandmaster pulled his fingers back and slid them apart, scissoring them gently open and closed, he tossed his head back and let out a rattling gasp. The Grandmaster gave a throaty chuckle and pushed both his fingers in to the last knuckle, drawing them in then out, together then apart until he felt Loki’s muscles ease around them. He dipped his head down to brush his lips against Loki’s neck, leaving a glittering blue streak along his carotid artery.

Loki marveled at the tender affection of his kisses, at how chastely he would press their lips together before gently probing at his open mouth with the tip of his tongue. At how he purred into his mouth when he bit at his bottom lip and how he was fond of brushing their noses together if their lips broke apart when he smiled. And he did smile often, his ragged breath turning into a giggle, a hum of wonderment, or a gasp of delight at Loki’s responses to his movements. It was hard not to smile with him, and more than once Loki felt his lips miss their mark because his own were pulled thin over his teeth. The terrifying ease with which the Grandmaster held his body down beneath him with a single hand was mitigated by his doting curiosity, his indulgent adulations, and the steady rhythm of his fingers.

The Grandmaster pulled back to admire the shiny blue pigment smeared across Loki’s neck and mouth. He raised an eyebrow at the corpsely blue blush that had spread over his chest and down to his belly, blooming from the center of his face across the sharp bridge of his nose and the high slope of his cheekbones.

“My, my… curious little thing, aren’t you?” he tutted at this newly discovered Asgardian oddity, sounding thoroughly charmed. 

Loki, for his part, could muster nothing more than a petulant little huff at their bodies having been separated. His cock was already dribbling over-eagerly onto his stomach and the only thing keeping him from demanding that the Grandmaster _just get on and fuck him already_ was the fear of extinguishing that playful glint in his eye and what might follow in its absence. There was sweat beading at his furrowed brow, sticking his long dark hair across his forehead and down the back of his neck. His body was tensed like a bowstring, overstimulated from the languid affections of two extraordinarily patient fingers, already sung moonstruck and kissed quite insane. 

The Grandmaster slid his right hand from Loki’s shoulder down to his chest, bracing his weight against his sternum and turning his ear thoughtfully as the breath rushed out of him. He watched Loki’s hands twist into the sheets as he slipped his ring finger inside of him, patiently working it in and out of him at a slightly higher tempo.

Loki braced his hands on either side of his body and pushed himself further onto the Grandmaster’s fingers, working to match his rhythm so he could press down onto his knuckles just as they were pushed into him. They slipped in and out of him comfortably now, his muscles no longer working against them. Each time he felt the Grandmaster’s fingertips push against his prostate a high pitched whine wormed its way past the teeth he’d sunk into his lower lip. They hit their mark unfailingly. Loki shifted his weight onto his right elbow and reached his left hand down to wrap around his attention starved cock. The Grandmaster moved his free hand to press against the inside of Loki’s left thigh, watching thoughtfully as his hand worked up and down in time with his own movements, his cock already leaking precum over his belly and his eyes beginning to roll back into his head. A litany of breathy, primal noises poured out of him as he rode the Grandmaster’s fingers; frustrated grunts and moans that wavered in pitch under three hands’ worth of attention.

“Hmm,” The Grandmaster mused after a time, “tell me, uh, Loki… would you like me to fuck you? Or are you happy leaving things here?”

Loki, who had thought he’d made his opinion on the matter desperately obvious, brought his head up and opened his eyes to pant out a small “yes”.

“Oh, well, wonderful, uh, then I suppose let’s, uhm —“ The Grandmaster pulled his hand back out of Loki’s ass and ran his fingers up and down his cock, slicking whatever oil remained along his length, “let's get right to it, then.” As he slid his cock into him at last, he moved to press his shoulders down again, only to find that Loki had already melted flat onto his back, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, mouth fallen open to curse in one of the younger languages the Grandmaster couldn’t bother learning at this age. He sat back again on his haunches, bracing his hands against Loki’s thighs and pushing into him steadily, enjoying the stream of ecstatic nonsense that came pouring out of his mouth. Context clues would suggest that it was encouraging.

Loki had previously thought he’d seen the other side of sanity the _last_ time he’d been lost on the edges of the cosmos, but was presently convinced that he’d found the right time to lose whatever was left of his mind. The All-Tongue he’d used so sparingly to wriggle himself into this situation had abandoned him entirely and he was afraid his wits were to follow. Making a split second decision as to how he’d like to use what could possibly be his final autonomous gesture as an inhabitant of his body, he dragged the first two fingers of his right hand over his tongue and brought them down to tease at the head of his cock. With a huff to show off the considerable efforts he was taking to do so, he locked eyes with the Grandmaster as he jerked himself off, his hand soon outpacing the other’s thrusts as his eyes rolled back into his head again. This time, as his body tensed and the pressure built low in his belly, there was no gentle interruption from above. He came with a series of breathy exclamations that universally translated to “yes”. The Grandmaster fucked him hard and steady through his orgasm, his hands pressing down against his splayed thighs to anchor him down through every thrust of his hips.

His sensations returned to him slowly as he crossed over from his little death, first blooming in the center of his chest as the tension eased from his torso and he stretched out his neck before lighting up his extremities. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip as his eyes fluttered open and he was met with the now familiar texture of smeared lipstick. His mouth still tasted like ash.

Loki re-focused his eyes on the Grandmaster’s face, the features of which no longer seemed placid or jovial, but hungry and ancient. With a lascivious confidence he was surprised he could manage so soon after getting his brains fucked out, Loki swiped a streak of cum off his chest and licked it from his fingers.

“Won’t you oblige me,” he rasped, his voice understandable now but worn down by loudly expressed exaltation, wavering every time the Grandmaster’s cock rammed into his overstimulated body, “darling?”

“Oh, darling, you only have to ask,” came the honeyed reply. The feral glint in The Grandmaster’s eyes was unwavering, but his smile was warm and sincere. He bent over Loki again, covering his mouth with his own and reaching out to twist their fingers together, bringing Loki’s arms back over his head. “You only ever have to ask.”

Quickly, his murmurs and purrs turned to growls and whines as the pace and angle of his hips changed. When Loki nipped again at his bottom lip the Grandmaster pinned his wrists together with one hand and brought the other to cup his jaw possessively, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Loki stayed pliant as the Grandmaster’s affections became rougher, needier. He became lost in the not-quite-rough feeling of his skin against his bare chest, of the way his hot panting breath washed over his face when their mouths broke apart, and of how his movements inside him were coming to a fever pitch. And oblige him he did, cuming with Loki’s face buried into the crook of his neck and his ankles hooked together behind his back. Loki kissed the shell of the Grandmaster’s ear as he felt his deadweight settle on top of him, freeing his wrists from his newly relaxed vice grip to run his fingers through his hair.

As the Grandmaster slowly lifted his head to press a long, chaste kiss over his mouth, Loki thought of all the significantly less pleasant planets the Bifrost could have dumped him on. He felt a wave of uncharacteristic gratitude as he kissed back.

“Now, uh, Loki,” said the Grandmaster, now propped up on his left elbow, fresh as a crop of spring daisies, his legs still tangled into Loki’s which were still gelatin, along with his arms. He sounded chipper and airy as his eyes roved across Loki’s chapped lips and bruised mouth, his still quaking fingers and heavily lidded eyes, “what are we going to do about your wardrobe?”

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself laugh a lot while writing this so I hope you did too. Very off kilter from my usual shit so thank you to my dear long suffering friend who doesn't even like this ship that much but beta tested this for me like ten times.


End file.
